


take me with you when you go

by SeaWallFics



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, F/F, mentions of divorce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:35:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaWallFics/pseuds/SeaWallFics
Summary: Tobin and Christen are on the verge of divorce. Will they be able to fix things?
Relationships: Tobin Heath/Christen Press
Comments: 23
Kudos: 141





	take me with you when you go

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as a multi-chaptered story, but I wasn't completely happy with it. I'm bringing it back as a revised one shot. Enjoy!

~ Chapter 1 ~

When her phone rings that night, Tobin's heart jumps with excitement when she sees it's Christen calling. She always feels a tiny spark of hope synonymous with everything Christen these days. When she picks up her phone, however, that same tiny ember flares hotly before it burns into ashes.

An hour later, her soon to be ex-wife drops off their daughters at her doorstep. Tobin knows the polite thing to do would be to invite her in, but the words just won't come. Both Lauren and Lexi, twelve and nine, greet her with a kiss and a hug before moving past her to leave the grownups to talk. Tobin's speechless, though, her broken heart pumping its jagged pieces through her bloodstream with every useless beat. Her _wife_ is going on a date and she looks the part. Tobin can't breathe at the thought of someone else — someone _not_ _her_ — having the privilege to lay eyes upon Christen's form while it's accentuated by the tight skirt of her little black dress. She. Can't. Breathe.

Christen watches her in trepidation. She knows what Tobin's thinking. Notices the way she's struggling for air. Christen wants to comfort her, but she also knows it isn't her place anymore, especially since she's the one causing all the hurt. She wants to apologize, but doesn't know what to say or do to make this clusterfuck feel any better. She should've never asked Tobin to take the girls tonight, but her parents had plans and so did Tobin's. She'd called Kelley, then Julie, then Ali and Ashlyn — all without success — before finally calling Tobin. She'd been upfront about her plans, knowing that lying about it would only make it worse in the long run. She's paying her therapist quite a bit of money to tell her these things. That same therapist tells her to go out. Get out of the house. Go on dates. It's the reason she's now awkwardly standing on the stoop of the house she used to call her home, trying to escape the woman she used to call her wife. It's not as easy as her therapist makes it sound.

From inside, Christen hears her daughters’ chatter. The smell of garlic and oregano permeates the house, telling her Tobin's making lasagne, and she just _knows_ there's a bottle of Chianti breathing on the counter. In the kitchen, she imagines, Tobin's phone plays either Lori McKenna or Anderson East, go-to music for when she's cooking. The need to step inside and shut the door behind her overwhelms her. In her mind's eye, she watches herself kick off her shoes in the hallway, hang her coat on the rack there. She _yearns_ as she imagines herself following Tobin into the warm, cozy kitchen, as she breathes in the smells of comfort food and wine and _home_. Her heart fills with the same desperate wanting thing it always does when she's close to Tobin, but she also remembers the reason there's a packet of divorce papers tucked away somewhere in this house — top drawer of the tv cabinet, she guesses — waiting to be signed. Nothing has changed. She takes a step back, away from all temptations luring her into a false sense of still belonging here before addressing the biggest temptation of all.

"I'm sorry to spring this on you," Christen apologizes to Tobin. "I'll be by to pick them up in the morning, okay?"

And it's not like she _means_ anything by it, but the suggestion in those words pierces Tobin's already shattered heart, causing her to let out a pitiful whimper while squeezing her eyes tightly shut. Her pain is palpable and it turns Christen's stomach to see Tobin hurt like this, but the decision to end their marriage was a mutual one and they're not dragging themselves through this for shits and giggles. With that thought, she squares her shoulders, turns around, gets in her car and drives off to meet a beautiful blonde at a romantic little Italian place downtown. She doesn't need to check her rear-view mirror to know that Tobin's watching her leave. Again.

On her way to the restaurant, nerves get the better of her. Meeting new people, opening herself up to them, has always been one of Christen's greatest fears. She's always so scared of showing people her quirks, wondering if they'll think she's weird or just plain crazy. She'll order something with a lot of ‘but only if's’ and she'll want a second napkin for dessert. She'll drink three sips of water for every sip of wine and she'll want the cutlery she won't need immediately taken away when she orders. Her last date knew all about these ‘preferences’ and while she knows it isn't healthy, she thinks of teasing smiles and charmed brown eyes, the soft clink of rings touching as a warm hand covers her own as Tobin reassures her there's nothing wrong with wanting these things and asking for them. _‘Enough!’_ she chides herself. Tonight is about looking ahead instead of looking back.

The moment she walks in the door of ‘Campana’, the smell of garlic and oregano hits her hard and a feeling of acute homesickness makes her eyes water. Her entire body revolts against every step that takes her closer to the woman waiting for her at table thirteen. Unlucky number, she can't help but think once she meets and greets her companion for the night, a natural blonde with clear blue eyes and a wide, welcoming smile. Christen shakes her hand, politely introducing herself while she tries to ignore distinct feelings of wanting to be somewhere else with _someone_ else. She just really likes Tobin's lasagne, okay? All the other reasons for wanting to go home and have dinner with her wife and kids are conveniently pushed to the back of her mind while she takes a seat. It's her first night out in almost a year and she's going to enjoy it, gosh darnit!

Thirty minutes later she's not only swallowing a mouthful of pasta, she's eating those words as well. She's not enjoying herself because she keeps comparing her date to the woman with the sad brown eyes she can't stop thinking about. Every time she looks up from her plate, Christen startles at the sight of the blonde stranger staring back at her from across the table, pretty blue eyes checking her out with keen interest. It makes her shiver and not in a good way. It's becoming startlingly clear that she's forced herself into something she's not ready for. It ends here, she decides, informing her date of her abrupt change of mind. She insists on paying for their meal — it's the least she can do, she says — before stalking out of the restaurant and back to her car. She's not sure what to do now. Tobin isn't expecting her until tomorrow morning, but she doesn't want to spend the rest of her night in an empty apartment either. She just wants to go _home_.

~

When she drives up to the house fifteen minutes later, she's surprised to find her mother's car parked out front. Isn't it a little late in the day for a visit? She's even more surprised when her Mama opens the door with a raised eyebrow and an indecipherable look in her eyes. Christen gulps, knowing she's in for a stern talking to.

"Fun night?" Stacy asks as she lets her daughter in. The words are dripping with disapproval and Christen knows her Mama isn't expecting an answer. They cross the living room in silence, Christen dutifully following her Mama's footsteps all the way into the kitchen. "Sit," Stacy orders while pointing at one of the bar stools lining the counter. "You and I are gonna have a talk." Doing as she's told, Christen opens her mouth to ask what's going on, but one look at her Mama's face tells her that might not be the brightest idea. Okay. Mama's going first then.

"I’m sure I don't have to tell you why I'm here on a Saturday night while I should be sitting at a dinner table with two of my best friends?" Stacy asks her middle child. Christen shakes her head in the negative, shame filled eyes carefully avoiding her mother's steely look.

"Your father and I want you to be happy," her mother continues, "and we will never stand in the way of that happiness, but we can't help but wonder what you were thinking dropping off the kids with your _wife_ before going on a date with another woman. When Tobin called me tonight, I thought someone had _died_ , Christen, she was crying so hard."

Christen's nauseous again. She thinks she's going to be sick. She doesn't know that Tobin's already hogging the upstairs bathroom. That she's been clinging to the toilet bowl for a good half hour now. That Lexi is clinging to Lauren just as tightly, crying because she has no clue why Momma keeps throwing up and why Mommy isn't here to help her. Tobin hears their voices through the bathroom door while dry heaves wrack her body, the spasms hurting her already empty stomach. She has now officially failed her entire family. It's in that moment — kneeling on the bathroom floor, heart broken, stomach hurting — that she decides enough's enough. She'll sign those goddamn papers and get it over with. If freedom is what Christen wants, then freedom is what Christen gets.

Downstairs, Stacy's trying her damnedest to remind herself that Christen's a grown woman. In all fairness, her daughter doesn't owe her an explanation for going out tonight. Truth be told, Stacy's heart is breaking for the both of them as she watches them struggle with their separation and the ways it affects their children. She doesn't know why they're getting a divorce, but she does know that her daughter set things in motion. It's not her place to ask for a reason, but knowing Christen, it's probably more to do with herself than it could ever have to do with Tobin. Her daughter-in-law worships the ground Christen walks on, still crazy about her after all the years they've spent together and Stacy can't imagine Tobin ever loving anyone else. It makes her curious about Christen's decision, but she's promised Cody to stay out of it. If Christen's ready to talk, she’ll listen. In the meantime, she’ll try to be a good Mama to both Christen and Tobin, because Tobin is her daughter too, divorce or no.

"I know I made a mistake," Christen confesses to her Mama. "I should've never brought the girls here."

"Is that the only mistake you think you made tonight?" Stacy asks knowingly. Christen mulls the question over, knowing what her mother's hinting at. Was going out a mistake? Surely not. Going out on a _date_ probably was, her wife's presence so overpowering, she might as well have been sitting at their table.

"I wasn't ready for her not to be Tobin," Christen suddenly cries. Stacy rounds the counter with tear-stung eyes, wrapping her arms around her grieving daughter's torso, bringing her in for a much needed hug. Together, they mourn the loss of Christen's happiness.

~

When the bathroom door cracks open about twenty minutes later, Lexi throws herself at Tobin, trusting her Momma to catch her. Tiny arms wrap around her neck as a hot cheek presses against her own. It's exactly the comfort she needs.

"Are you okay?" Lexi whispers in her ear, the worry in her small voice tugging at Tobin's heartstrings something fierce. Tobin nods, hugging the lanky girl to her even tighter. "I am now," she whispers back. "You give the bestest hugs ever!" It makes Lexi giggle, but Lauren watches them with a raised eyebrow and pursed lips. She looks _just_ like her Mommy and Tobin doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. Lauren looks right through her flimsy act, though, wordlessly asking for an explanation. "Later," Tobin promises as she continues to rub Lexi's back. The girl's half asleep in her arms, exhausted from crying and staying up past her bedtime.

Lauren nods before making her way to her bedroom, knowing her Momma will make good on her promise. As she reaches her door, she turns to Tobin with a shy smile. "Will you come tuck me in?"

Tobin's heart grows three sizes, because Lauren's twelve and she hasn't asked her Momma to tuck her in quite some time. With a giant smile and suspiciously wet eyes, Tobin nods. "I'll be right there, Lolo."

The challenge of brushing Lexi's teeth while the girl's limbs are already asleep is a familiar one. It takes Tobin about ten minutes to wrangle her into bed with clean teeth, a washed face and hoisted in Wonder Woman pajamas. She sits on the edge of the girl's single bed, fingers trailing from the fine hairs of a barely there eyebrow to the tip of the cutest nose that ever was. Lexi's asleep — no bedtime stories needed tonight — and Tobin counts another blessing as she watches the girl's chest rise and fall in peaceful slumber. She gets up to leave, but not before leaning down to press a kiss to the girl's warm forehead, swearing to love her forever. Leaving the door cracked open, Tobin finds her way to Lauren’s bedroom. She owes the girl a talk.

Lauren's in bed already, closing her book when her Momma walks in. She pulls back the covers, inviting Tobin to come cuddle with her. Kicking off her slippers, Tobin squeezes in beside Lauren in the girl's twin bed. When Lauren's head finds her Momma's shoulder, Tobin wraps a long arm around her daughter's slender shoulders, sighing in gratitude for the comfort it brings her.

"Will you tell me what happened?" Lauren's voice is quiet. Uncertain. She doesn't know if she's allowed to ask questions. Both her parents have always been very open and honest about their feelings, but she knows about the divorce and how much it hurts all of them. She just wants to understand what's going on. Needs to, really. Her tummy aches every time she catches either of her mothers crying. She wants to help make things easier, but she doesn't know how. She's hoping Momma will tell her. Beside her, Tobin is thinking of a proper response. She knows Lauren knows about their pending divorce and the toll it takes on the teenager and Tobin refuses to add to the load.

"I will tell you why I got sick, but I want you to promise me you won't get mad at Mommy, okay?" Lauren nods immediately — a little too fast, Tobin thinks — but it's the confirmation she asked for and it'll have to do.

"You know about the divorce, Lo. Mommy moved out with you and Lex because she doesn't want to be married anymore," Tobin tells her without ceremony.

"Why doesn't she want to be married anymore?"

It's a question Tobin expected, but refuses to answer. It's between her and Christen and that's the answer she gives her daughter, but she’s part Heath, part Press and that means she won't back down without a fight.

"Doesn't she love you anymore?"

"It's not about that, baby. Mommy and I will always love each other because of you and Lexi and all of the beautiful memories we've made together, but sometimes love alone isn't enough to make people happy.

"Were _you_ happy?"

"I was, but Mommy wasn't and it takes two people to make a marriage work."

"Do you want to divorce?"

"I do," Tobin tells her with conviction, "because Mommy asked for it. I promised her on our wedding day that I would always try my best to give her everything she needs. I don't want to break that promise."

Lauren's quiet for a few moments, processing her Momma's answers, before piping up again. "Isn't marrying someone kind of a promise too?"

Tobin stops breathing for a moment, because there's an awful lot of truth in those six words. Not only did she make a promise to Christen, she did it in the name of God. Ending their union goes against everything she believes in, but Christen's happiness depends on it — on _her_ — and that's all that matters. The kids will adapt to two separate households and Tobin will divorce her soulmate, but that's the only vow she will allow herself to break. Her heart belongs to one woman and that will never change.

"It is, sweetheart," Tobin murmurs, "and we really meant to keep that promise, but we can't control life or other people's feelings. Mommy and I have to make new plans even though we always thought things would stay the same." It's the best she can do for now, because it's a hard situation to explain. Most days she doesn't understand it herself, wondering how the hell they ended up like this.

"Mommy's making new plans, isn't she? That's what made you sick tonight." Tobin shakes her head in wonder. How is this kid so annoyingly perceptive? She's going to have to monitor her words and actions around this one. She's Christen's kid through and through.

"Yeah," Tobin admits, voice wrought with emotion. "I guess I’m not ready for the new plans yet." It's the understatement of the 21st century, but Lauren doesn't need to know that. Tobin will cry herself another river when the kids aren't around to witness it. "Remember your first day of Junior High?" She waits for Lauren's nod to continue. "You were so nervous, it made you want to throw up. Remember why you were scared?"

Lauren nods again, her head heavy against Tobin's shoulder. "I thought the new kids would bully me because I like school so much. I was scared because everything felt different and I really wanted it to go back to how it used to be."

Now Tobin's the one nodding in agreement. "That's how the new plans make me feel too," she confesses. "I don't want things to change because I like them so much the way they are, but nothing ever stays the same, Lo. ‘The only thing that stays the same is change’, Tobin recites, knowing Lauren will understand what she's trying to say. "It will take a while to feel safe again, but I'll be okay. Okay?" Tobin tries to reassure her little worrywart. It's quite a conversation to have right before bedtime, but _not_ talking about would've made it even worse.

Lauren snuggles into her, her tired little body drawing comfort from her Momma's embrace. Tobin's convinced she's asleep already when a tearful voice rumbles against her sternum. "Momma, I think I broke a promise too. I'm really mad at Mommy for making you sick."

Tobin breaks.

~

"I should go," Christen announces, getting up to leave. Stacy watches her hesitate. As if she's not really sure she wants to leave the familiar comfort of the tiny kitchen. Christen knows she's overstaying her welcome, not wanting to add insult to Tobin's injury by ambushing the poor woman in her own house. The kids are in bed already. She doesn't need to be here. The thing is, though, that she _wants_ to be here. In this cozy little nook of the house that Tobin designed and then built all by herself. These scant square feet hold a lot of memories that Christen doesn't want to let go of. She should've known that coming here would lead to this. To her not wanting to leave this kitchen. This house. Her _family_.

When Lexi and Lauren are with Tobin, her apartment doesn't feel like a safe space at all. It's sterile and feels barely lived in. It's more like a hotel room, Christen thinks. She can't get used to the mattress or the scratch of brand new bed sheets and the whole place still reeks of paint and turpentine. She hates it and in the many hours she lies awake at night, she wonders what possessed her to file for divorce in the first place. Was it really so bad that Tobin was practically never home? That she evaded any and all questions concerning her whereabouts? That it didn't seem to matter to her that Christen and Lexi and Lauren were so used to eating without her that they didn't even set a place for her anymore? Always on her phone or on her computer, immediately cutting off a conversation or shutting the lid on her laptop as soon as Christen entered the room, making Christen believe with absolute certainty that her wife was having an affair.

Too proud to let it go on right under her nose, she'd snapped. Tobin's utter disbelief — her _devastation_ — at Christen's suspicions is something that still won't let her be. She'd been wrong. Dead wrong. Tobin had disappeared from their lives altogether after that, only ever home to tuck the kids into bed before taking off again, leaving Christen to wonder where she spent her nights. They'd spent months pretending to be okay with it, but Tobin's reluctant presence had eventually started to hurt more than her absence ever had. Watching her leave at the end of the day — Lauren and Lexi none the wiser — had started to become something Christen looked forward to, the tension between them too much to handle. With Tobin refusing to talk about things and _adamantly_ refusing Christen's apologies, the only option left had been to put them both out of their misery and file for divorce.

The sound of footsteps down the staircase triggers Christen into hurrying towards the back door. Stacy rolls her eyes at the ridiculousness of her daughter's behavior, wondering how such a smart woman continuously makes such idiotic decisions. "Bye, dear," Mama Press waves as she takes off for the living room. Her intent is to intercept Tobin so Christen can safely escape. Oh, the things she does for her middle child...

Interception accomplished, Stacy invites Tobin to take a seat with her on the couch. Not wanting to keep secrets, she tells Tobin of Christen's visit and her sneaky escape just now. Relief floods Tobin's features as she realizes her wife won't sleep in someone else's bed tonight. She thanks Stacy for telling her, ignoring the sting of missing out on spending a few moments with the woman she misses so much it actually physically hurts sometimes. Stacy watches her for a minute, trying to figure out if now's an appropriate time to ask "The Question". Despite her promise to stay out of their business, she still wants to ask what went wrong. Maybe she can help. She'll talk to Christen or pay for marriage counseling or something. She'll try anything to get them on speaking terms again. Not talking isn't solving anything. It's only making things worse the longer their radio silence lasts and it won't be long now before it affects Lexi and Lauren and that's where she draws the line, promise to Cody be damned.

"I know it's none of my business," she carefully states, "but maybe it'll help if you talk to someone about Christen's decision. I could be that someone, if you want." Tobin's red rimmed eyes land on the woman she calls ‘Mama’. Her anxiety attack tonight tells her all is not well in the world of Tobin Heath-Press. She may be stubborn as a mule, but she's not stupid. Ignoring her problems — ignoring _Christen_ — has stopped being a solution. If a different approach is needed, it might as well come in the form of a woman she loves and trusts and connects with. Between Stacy and herself, she doesn't know who's more surprised when she starts talking.

"I'm building a house," is the first thing that leaves Tobin's mouth. Stacy wants to ask a lot of questions, but Tobin's faraway look tells her to keep quiet and listen. "Well, I'm not _building_ it from the ground up, of course. I'm remodeling it. It's why I was never home. I don't know if Christen told you that. That I was never home."

Stacy nods. Christen hadn't told her much, but Tobin's absence from the dinner table had come up in conversation. Lauren and Lexi had filled her in on the fact as well. Many times.

"I bought a house on the beach," Tobin continues. "It was a dump, but I paid a good price for it and I knew fixing it up myself would save me a pretty penny. I didn't want to show Christen the "before", ‘cause I was sure she'd want me to sell it before I had a chance to restore it. Either that or she'd want to divorce me over doing something so stupid. I guess I was right about _that_ part."

Here, Tobin looks up at Stacy, not sure what she expects to find in the older woman's eyes. There's no judgement there, thankfully, but something's brewing. The crinkle between drawn brows and the pursed lips tell her a difficult question's brewing.

"We are talking about this house in a minute," Stacy tells her, but she has a much more pressing matter to attend. "But I don't believe for a second that your buying a beach house is the reason why Christen wants a divorce. I call bullshit."

"You'd be right," Tobin tells her, "because she doesn't know about the house. I never told her."

"You never told her you bought a _house_ !?" Stacy asks in disbelief. "How do you keep _buying a house_ a secret for months on end?"

Tobin doesn't know where to look. It sounds so stupid thinking about it now, but there's no going back and changing things. She's unable to disguise the hurt in her voice and as she speaks it breaks. "By making her believe I was having an affair, apparently."

Stacy's gaping at her in shock for a few seconds. Tobin half expects her next question to be ‘Were you?’, but it doesn't come. Instead, the woman starts laughing, the unexpected sound startling Tobin out of her pity party. She watches on in confusion as Stacy's whole body shakes with the force of her laughter. Tobin doesn't know what to think or say, so she’ll wait for Stacy to explain.

"Dear, sweet Tobin," she hiccups through her last chuckles, "my daughter is an idiot. If she hasn’t figured out by now that she's your be-all, end-all, then maybe she doesn't deserve you and _you're_ the one who should want a divorce." Seeing the befuddled look on Tobin's face, Stacy knows she owes her an apology, but sweet lord, what have these kids gotten themselves into? "I'm sorry for laughing. I'm not having fun at your expense, but you with the house and Christen with the cheating? It sounds like the two of you should have a talk. Be honest with each other. Make sure you have all the facts instead of just the feelings before ending your marriage."

Christen's accusations left some pretty permanent scars. Not only did it irreparably damage her heart, it also took away the one thing she'd always believed in. Christen's trust in their marriage and in Tobin herself. From the very beginning Tobin's sole purpose has been to make Christen happy. She's worked hard to achieve that one goal day in and day out, only to have every single selfless deed declared null and void by the woman who'd sworn to love and protect her until her dying day. Was it so hard for people to understand that talking about something like that didn't come easy to her?

"Tell me more about this house," Tobin hears Stacy ask. It's a reprieve, she knows, and she's grateful for it. Knowing Mama Press, they'll circle back to the hard parts later.

"It's close to Palos Verdes," Tobin reveals, surprising Stacy yet again. "Christen lights up whenever we visit you and Cody. I know she loves … _loved_ living here, but every now and then we'd talk about the next step. We'd dream about waking up to the sound of the waves rolling in and having a picnic style breakfast on a stretch of sand all our own. I knew she wanted it, but she never outright asked me, knowing I'd move heaven and earth to give it to her. I would have, Mama. I _did_. But all it did was make everything crumble," Tobin cries softly into her hands, grieving the loss of the beautiful dream she tried to make come true for her and her family. The house is nearly finished, but Tobin will never live there. She still wants Christen to have it, to make a home there with Lauren and Lexi, just like she envisioned these past few months while tearing down walls and painting rooms. Her family's happiness is still the main goal, married or not, and Tobin hopes her three girls will live a happy life in the house that love built.

Stacy can't hold back her tears as she watches the distraught woman beside her. Moving close enough to be able to embrace her, she does just that. She knows there's no use in trying to soothe someone whose heart is still in the process of breaking. She stays quiet and rubs Tobin's long back in an up and down motion, letting her know that Mama's got her. To make room for the future, Stacy thinks, she'll have to let go of the past.

~ Chapter 2 ~

Driving towards the beach house, Tobin realizes this will be the final time she'll get to use her key to open the front door. It's a bittersweet feeling, knowing one of Christen's dreams is about to come true at the cost of one of her own. She wouldn't have it any other way, though. The house was bought with three people in mind and those same three people will get to live there. It's all that matters.

It's been seven days since breaking down in Stacy's arms. Today, she's picking up the last of the paint cans and tarps. After that, she's officially done renovating the place, but there's no sense of accomplishment. She's worked hard and the house looks fantastic — if she does say so herself — but it's cost her a lot more than the dollars she's spent on it. That little nugget of truth will keep her up at night for the foreseeable future.

Leaving her car in the lot, she walks a short seashell path until she hits the beach. Kicking off her slippers, she leaves them behind, immediately enjoying the familiar feeling of loose, warm sand between her toes. With the house now in view, Tobin admires its pristine white balusters and the very fitting sand colored cedar shakes. Skipping up the steps, she breathes in the salty air while forbidden images of coming home here to her wife and daughters fill her thoughts. She stops herself, instead thinking of the thick envelope she'd finally pulled from the top drawer of the tv cabinet. She'll be a divorced woman soon. She has to let it go.

~

When Lauren strolls into the kitchen that morning, she immediately knows something's up. There's no music playing and not much cooking going on. Her Mom's sitting at the breakfast bar with her phone in one hand and an empty coffee mug in the other. She's lost in thoughts, it seems, and it worries Lauren how still her usually animated Mom is. She's staring at her phone with sad, unseeing eyes and Lauren just _knows_ , if she were to look, she'd find a text from her Momma. She has a feeling things are about to get worse. Making her way over to the oblivious woman, she wraps her arms around her mother's shoulders, leaning her full weight into the hug.

"Good morning, Mommy," Lauren whispers, noticing how much easier it is these days to wrap her arms around the older woman's rail thin frame. It only makes her squeeze harder, wishing for this nightmare to be over for all of them and just wanting to go back to the way things were. She has no idea who did what or what was said, but the conversation with her Momma last week makes her think not everything is lost. Her parents _love_ each other and, yeah, okay, sometimes love isn't enough to save a marriage, but Lauren knows with one hundred percent certainty that this time it _is._ She just has to make them _see_. When familiar arms — just as strong and comforting as ever — hug her in return, Lauren closes her eyes and prays. She refuses to let it go.

Reveling in the warmth of her daughter's embrace, Christen finally tears her eyes away from the six inches of Gorilla Glass hijacking her attention. The screen has faded to black by now, but she's been staring at Tobin's text for so long, it's burnt into her retinas.

**[Can we meet today? I signed the papers. More to discuss.]**

There's no heart at the bottom, not an X for a kiss. It's not the first text since their separation, but it feels final somehow. Like it's the last text she'll ever receive from Tobin while she's still Christen's wife. The thought leads her down a dark path of sullen thoughts. Unconsciously, her right hand starts toying with the wedding band on her left, the white gold ring warm to the touch. She'll have to change her name back to Press, already missing the Heath and its little hyphen and everything it stands for, their children the only two people lucky enough to forever carry that name. Lauren's hug brings her back to the here and now. She still has to reply to Tobin's text and then she'll have to find a way to prepare for the inevitable. They're really going through with this, Christen thinks while her stomach turns at the thought. She'll never forgive herself for accusing Tobin of breaking the most sacred of vows. Maybe she should've just let it go.

Upstairs, in her pink princess bed, Lexi dreams of angry clouds and pretty kites. They're on a beach. There's a storm rolling in, the wind picking up until she can barely hold onto her blood red kite. She's crying, pleading for someone to help her, but when she looks around her, she sees both her Mommy and Momma walking away from her. She doesn't understand why they're going in opposite directions. She doesn't know who to call out for first, so she stays silent, the storm angrily trying to take her kite from her numb little fingers. She doesn't want to let go, not wanting to say goodbye to her beautiful kite, so she holds on until a strong gust of wind lifts her in the air and pulls her up into the sky and over the water. If she lets go now, she'll drown. She may be only nine years old and the significance of this dream may escape her the moment she wakes up, but she knows she should've let go when she had the chance.

~

Between Tobin not wanting to spring the beach house on Christen and Christen not wanting to invite Tobin into her sad looking apartment, they end up meeting at the house they used to live in as a family. If it weren't so darn painful, it would be poetical to end their marriage where it began. There's a strange dance going on between them the moment Tobin invites Christen in. Familiarity has taught them to be in the same space at the same time, but it's that same familiarity that makes it feel awkward. They still know the other inside and out, but are they allowed to act on it? Does Christen mind the way Tobin places a hand on her lower back to usher her through the kitchen door? Is Tobin okay with the way Christen immediately goes for the kettle on the stove top to make them a cup of herbal tea? They each falter in these habitual steps, scared of crossing lines and just as scared of never finding it _this_ easy to just _be_ with someone ever again.

Sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, they stumble into a somewhat pregnant silence. Tobin wants to go first, but she's not quite sure how to start this conversation. Her hands reach for the envelope, pulling out the documents that will change their lives as they know it. She holds onto one stack of documents while sliding another towards Christen.

"I'm sorry for taking so long to sign," she apologizes. Christen just stares at the page on top, Tobin's signature scratched into the paper in a bold black. It looks so certain next to the delicate blue lines of her own autograph, only now noticing that she signed her divorce papers Heath-Press. She wonders if she'll ever get used to being just Press again. She nods to let Tobin know she's listening, because she doesn't know what to offer in return. Reality is staring her in the face, daring her to say something, but she's all out of words. She can't even look at the woman across from her, just knowing that she'll be met with apologetic eyes and an understanding smile if she does. She keeps her eyes trained on the stark white paper — the letters have started to blur by now — waiting for Tobin to bring up the "More to discuss" from her text message in weary anticipation. She hears the intake of a deep breath before Tobin's voice fills the space between them.

"There's something else I wanted to talk to you about," she starts. "I should've told you this months ago. I wish I had. It would've led us down a completely different path, I think."

Christen looks up, confused and a little angry, thinking what an odd time it is to finally want to have this talk. "Go on," she urges Tobin, because despite her mixed emotions, she thinks she really needs to hear this. She's confused when Tobin slides a second stack of papers across the table. Her curiosity grows when she's asked to hold off on reading them until Tobin finishes telling her a story.

"A while ago, I bought a house," Tobin explains. She watches as dark eyebrows crinkle into a frown, but before a question can leave Christen's lips, Tobin pleads with her to wait until she's done. After another nod — accompanied by the slightest of eye rolls — Tobin continues. "So I bought a house a while back. It's on the beach. I know how much you love it there — well, we all do — and I know it'd be a dream come true for you and the girls, so when I saw the advert for this rickety beach shack, I knew it would be perfect for us."

Christen watches on in puzzlement, dying to ask questions, but also remembering her promise to wait until Tobin's done talking. It's getting harder and harder, though, because she can't believe what she's hearing. Buying a house seems like a decision someone involves their partner in, isn't it? Why keep it a secret? Where did she get the money? And did she just say _rickety_ beach shack? What could they possibly want with _that_ ? And then it hits her. Hard. All the puzzle pieces seem to fall into place and it ruins her. Her eyes widen as her breath stalls on an inhale, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, the other curling into a fist on top of the deed to that beach house, because those documents can't possibly be anything else. "Why didn't you just _tell_ me?" she begs, her eyes already wet with tears.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," Tobin murmurs, hating herself for making Christen cry again. She knows it sounds stupid saying it out loud, but it's true and that's the important part, isn't it?

"You idiot!" Christen explodes. "Why didn't you _say_ something when I brought up my suspicions? It would've saved us a world of pain, don't you think?"

"It would've saved _you_ a world of pain," Tobin counters immediately, taking Christen by surprise. "You hurt me, Christen. It just about killed me to hear you question my fidelity, my _vows_ to you. I could've told you about the house that night, but it wouldn't have made a difference. If you hadn't filed for divorce, I probably would have, because I can't be married to someone who doesn't trust me." Christen deflates, her anger melting away at the undeniable truth in Tobin's words. She doesn't know what to say, so she stays quiet, hoping Tobin will know what to say or do next. Thankfully, she does.

"I didn't invite you here to keep arguing about the past," Tobin stresses. "I'd like you to take a look at those printouts. I know you have questions and I promise to answer all of them after you're done reading. You don't have to decide right away and if you don't want it, that's okay too, but will you please look them over?"

Christen wants to say no, because saying yes means she has to flip open this folder that contains only half a dream come true. She'll find pictures of her dream house on the most perfect stretch of beach and she knows Lauren and Lexi will love growing up there, but Christen needs Tobin there too to make it perfect for _all of them_. Not wanting to disappoint Tobin, she picks up the folder and flips it open. She was right. Perfect house. Perfect beach. And now she's perfectly fucked. Because who says no to this? Knowing Tobin built this pretty little palace with her bare hands to make Christen happy fucks her up even more. Jumping up from her seat, she hurries out the door, protectively hugging the yellow folder to her chest. Tobin lets her go, knowing why Christen feels the need to run. She'll be back, if only to pick up those effing divorce papers still polluting her kitchen table.

~ Chapter 3 ~

Their next meeting isn't planned, so they're both equally as shocked when they spot each other in the parking lot by the beach. Tobin doesn't know if she's allowed to approach, so she waits for Christen to make the first move. It comes in the form of a shy smile and a barely audible "Hi". She's clearly embarrassed about getting caught, knowing Tobin knows what she's here for.

"Lovely day for a walk on the beach, isn't it?" Tobin greets her. Christen blushes, not really understanding why, but the knowing grin on Tobin's face may have something to do with it.

"Sure is," she concurs, "are you coming or going?"

"I did what I came here to do, but if you need a tour guide, I'm your gal. I can open doors for you that would otherwise stay locked," Tobin smirks while holding up a set of keys. Christen knows exactly which doors those keys open. Driving up here, she'd expected to see the house from the outside only. She'd be a fool to decline such a generous offer. "Lead the way," she gestures, enjoying the surprised look on Tobin's face at her acceptance. Side by side, they walk the seashell path until they hit the dunes, both thinking that _this_ is how it's supposed to be.

Tobin unlocks the door with trembling hands. Christen hasn't made a single sound since first laying eyes upon the house and Tobin doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Stepping into the square entryway, she holds the door for Christen, silently asking her to follow her inside. "Do you want to explore on your own? I can make myself scarce until you're ready to leave," she offers, nervously fiddling with the surfboard key chain between restless fingers.

"No, stay," Christen tells her. Tobin hears the tremor in her voice, a clear indication of how overwhelmed she already feels by the situation. "Show me around?"

Leading her through another door, Tobin eagerly takes on the role of realtor. She tries to keep her tone lofty and light while showing Christen the shelved little nook behind the entryway. She's dying inside, breathing through the pain of knowing and accepting that she won't have a say in which painting will look best there or what goes on those shelves. She doesn't want to dwell on what isn't and never will be, so she marches on — with Christen in her wake — through a wide open hallway into a spacious living room. Sunlight streaming through the windows of cutely styled sliding doors opens the room right up, brightening up the empty space with bright whites and warm yellows. Tobin watches as Christen moves past her on her way to those sliding doors. Watches as deft hands immediately know how to work the locks and the handles. Watches as Christen slides open that wall of windows to let the sunshine in and it's in that exact moment that Tobin finally _really_ understands what she's about to lose. She wants to look away, but she _can't_ . Christen's frame is no more than a silhouette, all color drowned out by the brilliance of the early morning sunlight, but Tobin thinks she's never seen a sight this clear. This woman is _it_ for her and she'll find a way to mend what's broken.

A few steps ahead of her, Christen basks in the warmth of the midmorning sun. With her eyes closed and — unbeknownst to herself and Tobin — tears sliding down the ruddy skin of her cheekbones, she tries to meditate herself back together again. It's too much, Christen thinks. This house and its stunning beauty. The way she feels _at home_ here with Tobin guiding her from room to room, secretly dreaming of decorating together. Of bickering about wallpaper and color schemes. She wants to live here, no doubt about it, but she isn't sure she _can_ and she's already dreading the conversation she's going to have to have about it with Tobin. Out of courtesy and out of respect for all of Tobin's hard work, she'll take the rest of the tour, but her mind's made up. Tobin is a much more important part of her dream than this house could ever be. She'd feel haunted here by all the details Tobin's managed to work into the house. Details they used to fantasize about when talking about the future. She _knows_ this house because they dreamed it up together long before Tobin made it a reality. The decorative ceilings and the built-in fireplace. The sliding doors and the ornate stairway. She's afraid to go upstairs, knowing for a fact she'll find a much talked about canopy bed in the master bedroom with white gauze curtains wrapped around its posts. The bed itself will be made of a dark wood — probably walnut — in beautiful contrast to the sheer white curtains and the heavy, sand colored bedspread Grandma Heath left them when she passed.

She's shaken from her memories when Tobin's fingers land on her shoulder, her touch hesitant. Unsure. Christen catalogues the feeling with precision, from the near imperceptible pressure of Tobin's fingertips to the tingles they leave behind when they're lifted all too soon. Never enough, Christen's soul cries. Never again, her mind adds. She's spared the humiliating act of drying her tears, the sun having taken care of that embarrassing problem. When Tobin asks her if she's okay, she merely nods in response, following the babbling woman back down the hallway and into one of the two downstairs bathrooms. Christen has a feeling Tobin's just as uncomfortable as she is, because Tobin doesn't usually babble around her wife and children. It just goes to show how screwed up their situation is, Christen thinks, if they can no longer be themselves around each other.

She's being led from room to room, marveling at tiled walls and wooden floors while Tobin explains the layout of both bedrooms and their attached bathrooms, grinning proudly at having single handedly resolved the daily recurring issue of Lexi and Lauren fighting over who gets to shower first in the mornings. Christen's heart painfully constricts when she realizes she's moments away from bursting yet another one of Tobin's bubbles. Lexi and Lauren will never experience the luxury of en-suite baths, at least not in _this_ house. Perceptive as ever — or maybe still very much in tune with Christen's emotions — Tobin's face falls. Christen watches as she clenches her jaw, a telltale sign of Tobin fighting her emotions. Message received, it seems, and Christen didn't even have to say a word.

"I'll take care of it," Tobin promises as she makes her way up the stairs, radiating defeat. Christen watches her go, feeling just as defeated. She keeps hurting this wonderful, generous woman with either words or actions and she doesn't understand why Tobin keeps trying with her. That's not true, she realizes the second she thinks it. She _does_ understand. Tobin _loves_ her. Would still do anything for her and the girls and _that's_ why she keeps trying. It has to count for something, Christen thinks while she climbs the stairs, determined to explain her reasons for not being able to live here. It's what Tobin deserves.

Finding the master bedroom at the end of the hall, Christen peeks inside before entering. She doesn't want to catch Tobin in too vulnerable a position, but the bed — sheer white curtains wrapped around its dark wooden posts as expected — is empty and Tobin's nowhere to be found. Christen wants to take in the room and all its features, but movement on the sundeck catches her eye. Through the open doors, she lays eyes upon the clearly distraught woman. Tobin is crying, her whole body shaking with the force of her sadness. Christen can't stand it. Before she knows it — before she can _stop_ herself — she finds her body plastered against Tobin's back while her arms wrap around a heaving midriff. Christen's presence only seems to make the tears come faster, but Tobin doesn't step away from her like Christen expected her to. Instead, strong hands find her forearms in a silent plea to tighten her hold, Tobin asking Christen to anchor her while she's threatening to drown in an ocean of grief. "You can let go," Christen whispers, her chin having found a home on Tobin's right shoulder. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay. I'm right here, Tobin. I'm right here." Tobin crumples, taking Christen with her until they're both kneeling down on the unforgiving hardwood planks of the sundeck. They don't even notice. The only pain they feel comes from deep within and it's finally finding a way out. Christen has no idea how long they sit there like that. She lost all feeling in her toes about ten minutes ago, but getting up means letting go of the woman in her arms and losing that particular feeling is something she's not yet ready for. Tobin's near catatonic and Christen's worry increases as she catches lifeless brown eyes staring out over the ocean.

"I'm so tired, Christen," Tobin suddenly announces, her voice quiet and hoarse. "I'm so darn tired. I don't know who I am without you and I'm no longer me when I'm with you. Everything is such a mess."

"I know," Christen whispers, "And I'm sorry, Tobin. I'm sorry for every decision I made that led us here. I'm sorry for disappointing you. For hurting you. For _continuing_ to hurt you constantly. I _love_ you and I wish I could take it all back. God, I'm sorry, baby. I'm so, so sorry," she cries against Tobin's shoulder. "Forgive me, Tobin," Christen implores, knowing forgiveness won't change their circumstances, but needing it just the same. " _Please_ , forgive me."

If the situation weren't so darn tragic, their role reversal would be comical, because it only takes Tobin a second before she's wrapped around Christen, their bodies adjusting to the new position with little effort. Some things are still so easy between them, Tobin thinks, and _this_ is one of those things. They fit. No lengthy explanations, theories or scientific proof needed. Even after everything, they still fit. Knowing this doesn't make it any easier, unfortunately. By the time they're both all cried out, they're also exhausted. Getting up with stiff limbs and sore knees, they find their way back into the house. Into the bedroom. Checking the wall clock, Christen notices it's nearing noon. She has another three hours to kill before having to pick up the girls from school and the giant bed in the middle of the room looks like a perfect place to spend two of those hours. She knows she's setting herself up for disappointment, but she can't help but _want_. Leaving her slippers by the open doors, she finds her way to the bed before turning to face Tobin. "I know I shouldn't be asking you this –"

"Yes," Tobin breathes before Christen has a chance to finish her question, brushing the sand from her bare feet before moving to join Christen at the foot of the bed.

"It's beautiful," Christen whispers, her voice as reverent as the fingers trailing the bedspread.

"Yes," Tobin agrees, staring at her wife's profile. She hasn't slept right in months and the reason for that is standing right beside her. Sleeping with Christen — honest to God eyes closed, shallow breaths, light snores sleeping — feels like a hair of the dog kind of solution, trying to find the cure in the very thing that ails her, but she's not going to second guess it. Christen's offer is a wish fulfilled and she's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, despite knowing that same horse will probably kick her in the proverbial gonads the moment she wakes up. She doesn't care, because Christen is turning down the covers on the left side of the bed, preparing to get in, and nothing has ever looked more compelling. Tobin mirrors Christen's actions, folding back the bedspread and the lightweight duvet underneath it. She climbs in and lies down on her right side, facing Christen who's on her back staring up at the ceiling.

Feeling eyes on her, Christen turns her head and finds Tobin watching her. They're both a little shy and a little awkward, but when Tobin rolls over onto her back and reaches for her with her right arm, Christen takes the gesture for the invitation it is. Scooting over, her head finds its spot on Tobin's shoulder while the length of her body presses into Tobin's side. With tears of utter relief filling tired eyes, they both fall asleep almost instantly, finally feeling a little bit like the people they used to be.

~

She wakes up and for five blissful seconds everything's as it used to be. As it's _supposed_ to be. Christen revels in the familiarity of Tobin's body pressed against her own before real life rears its ugly head. It reminds her — harshly — that she's to blame for having lost the privilege of waking up next to her wife every morning. Tobin's behind her now, spooning her, one arm tucked underneath the pillow she sleeps on, the other wrapped around Christen's waist. The hand warming her tummy feels so good she has to forcibly will away the need to take that hand in one of her own and slip it underneath the fabric of her shirt. The thought instantly jolts her upright and out of bed. This isn't healthy. They shouldn't be doing this. She needs to leave and let bygones be bygones. Tobin's granting her the divorce she's asking for. It's really over and they need to start acting like it.

As always, Christen's absence is immediately detected by a slumbering Tobin. Seeking out her bed partner's heat, Tobin's body rolls to the still warm spot Christen just vacated. A quiet hum leaves her lips as she wraps her arms around Christen's pillow and hugs it to her chest in obvious contentment. It only serves to widen the chasm in Christen's heart, witnessing how much her presence still comforts Tobin while she sleeps and knowing the opposite is true when she's wide awake. The urge to crawl back into bed is strong, but she's saved from repeating that mistake by glancing at the clock and noticing the time. She's been asleep for an hour and a half and she'll need to pick up the girls soon. Wanting to take the easy way out, she starts for the door before changing her mind. She's tired of running away from the hard conversations with Tobin. It only serves to delay the inevitable and they've been dragging their feet long enough. Crossing the room to the bed, she sits down on the edge of the mattress and lays a shaking hand on Tobin's shoulder to gently shake her awake. The first attempt garners her a tired growl and an unintelligible murmur. The second attempt has her facing the ceiling so fast, it takes her a good few seconds to register the feeling of Tobin's wiry body on top of her own and a sleep warm face tucked into the crook of her neck. On instinct, she wraps her arms around Tobin to steady her, tightening her hold with a whimper as she feels the familiar plush of Tobin's lips pressed against her skin. She needs to stop this, she knows, but Tobin's weight pressing her into the mattress feels _so_ good and can't she be selfish for just a few moments longer? The answer's no because Tobin looks to be asleep and that makes this whole situation less than consensual and it's this thought that makes it a whole lot easier to put a stop to what's happening.

Loosening her hold on Tobin, Christen pushes against the sleeping woman's sides to make her roll over. It takes a few tries to succeed, Tobin's dead weight a little hard to subtly maneuver into a natural position. Her efforts turn out to be in vain, because as soon as Christen gets up, Tobin's eyes finally open, blearily blinking up at her wife's retreating form.

When reality comes crashing in, Tobin can't help but feel disappointed for having missed waking up next to Christen for the very last time. With an almighty sigh of resignation she gets up to follow Christen's footsteps down the stairs. They have about thirty minutes left to have an actual conversation about money, divorce papers and this beach house so she'd better get to it. More time isn't going to solve a thing. It's probably best to get it over with so they can start healing.

Sitting at yet another kitchen table, Christen realizes they are finally really going to do this. She's waiting for Tobin to return from a quick trip to the parking lot to retrieve the documents sealing their divorce and separation of assets. It all sounds terribly clinical, Christen supposes, but it doesn't make it any less painful. She's sick to her stomach, because it's entirely her own fault that they're divorcing at all. At least, that's what she used to think up until recently. Would Tobin really have filed for divorce if Christen hadn't beaten her to it? Taking Tobin's religion into account, it's a hard concept to grasp. Taking Tobin's hurt into account makes it a whole lot easier, though, because Christen barely knows the woman walking in Tobin's shoes nowadays. There's no trace left of the happy-go-lucky person Tobin used to be. She's always frowning and lost in thought. Always on the move, because stopping — standing still — means having to deal with what makes her frown and the things she can't seem to stop thinking about. It's a coping mechanism, Christen knows, and it's a bitter pill to swallow knowing she's responsible for irreversibly changing such a carefree woman. Only with the girls around does the Tobin from before peek through, but never for the woman she married. Never again.

Hearing a door close down the hall startles Christen from her unplanned pity party, hurriedly drying her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her shirt. She doesn't know how it's possible to have any tears left to cry at this point, but she can't stop them from falling. She probably never will. When Tobin walks into the kitchen — armed with a yellow folder in one hand and a familiar looking stack of papers in the other — she immediately hones in on the evidence of Christen's rising emotions. A look of concern pulls her eyebrows into a frown and Christen wants to kiss her for caring and slap her in the back of the head for it at the same, because Tobin needs to stop looking at her like she'll still do anything to make Christen feel better and it's nothing she deserves.

"You okay?" Tobin asks from a yard and half away.

She's taken a couple of steps towards where Christen's sitting, but stops short when she realizes where she's headed. It's not her place to comfort Christen. Heck, she shouldn't even want to. On her darkest days — when it hurts the most and when she's so incredibly angry — she wants to say she hates Christen for doing this to her. To _them_. On those days she tries to kickbox her way out of her spiralling thoughts, jabbing and kicking the stuffing out of a heavy weight punching bag to rid her mind of Christen's hurtful words and what they set in motion. She sweats her way through images of her beautiful wife and all the good times they've had and how Tobin will need to learn without her. She grunts and growls while pushing herself over every limit, screaming in agony when she thinks of Lexi and Lauren and incomprehensible things like custody agreements and child support. Every early evening she fights her demons at the local gym, falling into bed with an exhausted body but an overactive mind, searching for reasons to forgive Christen and move on from all of this together. It's like she's looking for loopholes or ways to travel back in time. It's useless. She needs this to end and soon. She can't keep living like this. It's just too damn hard. Resolve strengthened, she continues her way to the kitchen table, dropping into the chair across from a solemn Christen. Chin up, Heath. You can do this.

Untangling two lives in twenty five minutes seems impossible, but the Heath-Press family has been defying the odds since getting together, so it should come as no surprise that they actually manage to settle their savings, the alimony and shared custody in fifteen since they agree on splitting everything precisely in halves. It's when their living arrangements come up that things start getting rocky.

"I appreciate all the hard work you put into this place, Tobin, but I don't think I can ever be truly happy here."

"Why not?" Tobin sounds a little hurt.

"I don't know if that's something you really want to hear right now."

"Try me."

Christen looks past Tobin, searching for the right words to say. There's no doubt in her mind that telling the truth is her only option. Now all she needs is to find a way to share that truth without hurting Tobin even more than she already has.

"A beach house was one of the stepping stones on the way to our happily ever after. I know it sounds childlike to put it like that, but meeting you, getting to know you and then marrying you has always felt like a fairytale to me. You know me, Tobin," Christen rolls her eyes at herself in deprecation at this point, "I have a plan for everything and you already know all about the plan I had for the two of us."

Tobin listens and nods, knowing exactly what Christen means. She's always found it immeasurably endearing how Christen plans their life events and how to spend the time between them. Finishing college and both of them getting "grownup jobs" before moving in together. Two years of living together before the wedding proposal. (Okay, two years and four months, because Tobin kept chickening out.) Two years of marriage before trying to get pregnant. Waiting two years after kid number one before trying for kid number two and Tobin — go-with-Christen's-flow-Tobin — happily obliged. Anything to make her girlfriend/fiancé/wife happy. Hence the beach house and the now awkward conversation they're having about Christen not wanting to live there.

"You're such a beach bum, Tobin," Christen smiles, "and our kids certainly take after you in that department."

Tobin returns that knowing smile, silently agreeing with Christen's statement, but also cheekily adding, "And your ability to laze around on sandy towels for hours on end has nothing to do with that, of course."

They share another grin, both remembering slow summer days spent on the prettiest shores of the Pacific Ocean. It's easy to get completely lost in those memories, but they have more pressing matters to attend to. Matters that will certainly not let themselves be solved in the five remaining minutes before Christen has to leave. They should really wrap things up today, if only to spare each other the stress and angst of another few days of living in limbo. 

"I think we need a little more time here. If it's okay with you, I'm gonna text my Mom to pick up Lo and Lex from school," Christen suggests, already grabbing her phone from the back pocket of her white jeans shorts. When Tobin nods her assent, a message is sent, an answer is promptly received and then they're forced to go back to the task of tying up the loose ends of leaving each other.

"I'd really like for you to finish your thoughts on the beach house," Tobin picks up the conversation, eager to hear what Christen hasn't said yet.

"I guess what I'm meaning to say is that a beach house has always been part of the plans I had with you and the girls and I just don't know if I can live here if it's not with you." Proud of herself for being able to look Tobin in the eye while confessing, Christen can't help but feel weak at the same time as another tidal wave of desperation pulls her under. Some things are so easily thought, but so incredibly hard to say aloud, especially to the one person that deserves to hear them but probably doesn't want to. She watches as her words find a place to land in Tobin's mind and maybe even in her heart. Tobin stares at her in silence, a telltale sheen of wetness brightening the tired pair of eyes meeting her own. She sure knows where to hit Tobin to make it hurt, it seems. She keeps repeating her mistakes. These moments of truth of confessions or whatever the hell people call them are only making things worse and Christen's done hurting Tobin. She'll be the strong one, for once.

Standing from her seat, she slips off her engagement ring, sliding it across the table in the open palm of her right hand. At first, Tobin doesn't seem to comprehend the gesture, but when she finally does, the chair she's sitting in topples backwards with a clatter from the sheer speed and force of her jumping out of it.

"What are you _doing_?" Tobin whispers while eyeing the circle of platinum and gold with wide and disbelieving eyes.

"I figured you'd want it back," Christen explains, genuinely confused by Tobin's reaction. "It's your Grandma's ring."

Tobin's shaking her head, obviously disagreeing. "It's _your_ ring. I gave it to you. Why would I want it back?"

"It's an heirloom, Tobin. A _Heath_ family heirloom. You should hang on to it. Maybe someday — " 

"Don't you _dare_ finish that sentence!" Tobin cuts her off, something that alarms Christen because it's just not something Tobin does. Another thing that tells her she's finally driven Tobin to the brink is the storm so clearly brewing behind those dark and dangerous eyes. When her brain finally catches on to what her mouth was about to say, Christen knows she's gone too far. Tobin's voice hits her with a truth bomb so accurately dropped, it leaves her gasping for air.

"If you believe that I would go against God, Christen Press, then you don't know me very well. If you believe that I would _ever_ break the vows He blessed, then you must have misunderstood my intentions for all the years we were married. I said what I said and I meant it and I still intend to hold myself to the promises I made you that day and with God as my witness," Tobin tells her in a low and barely controlled whisper.

"I don't know what the rest of my life is going to look like, Christen, but I _do_ know — I have _always_ known — that I never want to be married to anyone else but you. You can make me sign a thousand documents telling me otherwise, but it won't change a thing for me. So _you_ hang on to that heirloom, because I sure as hell don't want it back. You want it to stay in the Heath family? Then _you_ stay in the fucking Heath family, because that ring will never touch another finger as long as I'm around to stop it from happening. Take the ring! Take this blasted beach house. Just take it all, Christen," Tobin yells at her, "I want you to have it all. That's the promise I made you, remember? That's the promise I intend to keep. _Always_."

Dead silence follows Tobin's outburst. Christen's ears are ringing, Tobin's heart is pounding and they're both on the verge of tears. It takes a few seconds to make sense of what just happened. Tobin clearly expects a response, but Christen's finding it hard to decide what to say or ask first. The words "Then _you_ stay in the fucking Heath family" keep bouncing around in her brain and while Tobin's delivery could use a little polishing, the words themselves sound like an option she'd love to have, but she doesn't dare ask if it really is. Breaking down Tobin's breakdown, Christen comes to the conclusion that Tobin doesn't seem as on board with their divorce as she’s led the world to believe these past few months. She has questions about that.

"I don't really know where to begin," Christen carefully addresses her still heavily breathing wife. Tobin's watching her with narrowed eyes and for the first time in a long time Christen has no idea what Tobin's thinking. "Will you answer a question for me?" Receiving a terse nod in reply, Christen hopes to find an answer to the question that's been haunting her for days.

"If you don't do divorce, why did you tell me you would've filed if I hadn't?" She expects Tobin to have to think about it, but her answer comes quickly and with a healthy dose of honesty.

"Marriage to me is a holy union. I believe in that union and I believe that it's forever. For me. You wanted a divorce. How could I say no? You wanting out has no bearing on my beliefs. I married once and I never will again, no matter what God has in store for me from here on out. You wanting my signature on those papers made me want my signature on those papers. In the end it doesn't really matter who wanted it or who asked for it first, because it doesn't undo my vows. I'm a religious woman and I know you live by man-made laws, but it's different for me. ‘Therefore what God has joined together, let no man separate’, is as much law to me as those divorce papers are to you. I gave you your divorce because I would never want to hold you hostage in a union you don't want to be a part of. Divorce to you means you will soon be a free woman, because that's what you wanted. Divorce to me means I won't have you with me, but I will also never be free of you and I'm okay with that. I signed up for that. Well, I signed up for a little more time with you, in all honesty, but the good Lord gave us free will for a reason, didn't He?" Tobin concludes in a slightly defeated tone, her anger all but drained. She doesn't want to come across as some sort of backwood's bible thumper, but Christen wanted an honest answer and this is Tobin’s truth.

"Do you really believe that?" Christen asks. "That you'll never be free of me? Because to me it sounds like prison, Tobin, to live like that. It sounds like you're holding _yourself_ hostage instead of me."

"I get where you're coming from, but you make it sound like I don't want to accept not being married to you. That's not what I'm saying. That would be creepy. It's more to do with my vows than with you as an actual presence in my life. It's honoring your place as my wife in the eyes of God for the rest of my time on earth, because that's the promise I made to Him. And when I meet Him, inevitably, I want God to be proud of me for being strong enough to overcome losing you and for having faith enough in Him to keep steering me in the right direction when I feel aimless and out of control. I'm sorry for yelling at you just now, but the thought of someone taking your place and wearing your ring is unthinkable to me, Christen. And to me, it's no punishment to honor what we had. We spent thirteen blessed years together. We have two beautiful, healthy children together. It's more than I ever could've hoped for while lying in my childhood bedroom, praying for forgiveness for kissing Missy Schofield behind the bleachers in junior high. You taught me a lot, Chris. So did Lo and Lexi. I'm grateful for every single second I get to spend with you and divorcing you won't change that."

"Dammit, Tobin," Christen curses while fat teardrops trickle down her cheeks again.

"Really, Christen?" Tobin chuckles. "I pour my heart out about my complex relationship with the Lord and you start cursing right after? Do you _want_ Him to rain fire and brimstone on me?"

"Shut up!" Christen orders, eyes blazing despite the fact that they're still full of tears. "You just shut up! You think this is _funny_? You think now that you've had your say we can joke about this?"

Tobin, taken aback by the venom in Christen's words, has the good decency — and the common sense of mind — to shut up as asked. She has a feeling Christen has more to say.

"You're so hung up on your religious beliefs and I love you for that. I really do. I must've heard you pray at least ten thousand times in the past thirteen years and do you know the word that seems to come up an awful lot in those prayers? _Forgiveness_ . You pray for God to forgive you for your sins. To absolve you so you won't lose your place in heaven. Well, guess what, Tobin. Today I'm the one praying and I'm praying to _you_ . I'm asking _you_ to forgive me my mistakes. To absolve me so I won't lose my place in heaven. And _your_ heaven may be a spirit in the sky you one day hope to meet, but _mine_ is living a full life with you and Lo and Lexi and the only one that can let me back into my heaven is you. I didn't break my vows, either. Tobin. I lost my way for a while, but that doesn't mean we have to lose everything else as well. I'm willing to fight hard for everything we believe in. _Together._ And I know it'll take some time to mend what's broken and I will do everything in my power to gain back your trust, but it starts with your forgiveness."

The silence now feels a lot longer and a lot more tense than the one before. It’s a last ditch effort on Christen's part, but she had to try. Maybe this way, using these words, Christen will finally find a way to punch through Tobin's armor and make her see that they're not all out of options just yet.

Picking up the overturned chair, Tobin carefully, soundlessly puts it back in its place at the kitchen table before dropping into it. She looks at the ring taunting her with its pretty little emeralds catching the light just right. She remembers her Nana giving it to her, despite being the youngest girl of the Heath household, a few weeks after the legalization of gay marriage, telling her to find her a girl as special as Tobin herself to give that ring to and to have it mean forever. After coming out, Tobin had spent a lot of time at Nana's house — her parents not immediately accepting of her "lifestyle" — talking about life and love and when you know you're with "The One". You'll know, Nana had promised her, probably as soon as you meet her and she'd been right. As always.

Looking up, Tobin catches Christen watching her in trepidation and obvious fear of rejection. The ball is now firmly in Tobin's court. She kind of hates how on the mark Christen's words are and how they manage to topple her carefully constructed walls of self protection, because forgiveness sounds like a reasonable solution, but it's not an easy one. Tobin is a proud woman, but pride's a sin and letting it stand in the way of another shot at happiness makes her a hypocrite as well. She releases another sigh, this one meant to fortify before picking up the ring and getting up from her chair again. She slowly makes her way over to Christen who's releasing a shuddering breath at Tobin's careful approach.

While looking deeply into her eyes, Tobin picks up Christen's left hand with her right, bringing it up between them. With the utmost reverence, Tobin slides the ring back onto Christen's finger, still holding her wife's gaze.

"Will you come home to me?" Tobin begs the astonished woman in front of her. "Will you be patient with me while we figure out how to make us work again?"

Christen can't believe what she's hearing. What Tobin's _saying_. She feels the weight of her engagement ring back on her finger, solidifying whatever magic is happening between them at the moment.

"Will you, Christen Heath-Press," Tobin continues, "do me the greatest honor and rip up those divorce papers and give us another chance at the ‘until death do us part’ part?" Just when Tobin thinks she broke her, Christen finds her bearings. Unsurprisingly, she is already crying, but the smile on her face tells Tobin she's hearing every word, but the lack of response is starting to freak her out a little. When Christen finally starts making sound, Tobin doesn't know what sends her heart into overdrive, but it's a close finish between the heartfelt "Yes!" and the mind-bending kiss following right after. They're not yet where they were before and who knows, maybe they will end up somewhere completely different. The important part is that they'll travel there together. Tobin, Christen, Lexi and Lo.

Letting her fingers run through Christen's hair — elated at having that privilege again — Tobin asks her one more favor.

"And if you ever leave me again, promise me to take me with you when you go."

~ FIN ~

**Author's Note:**

> As some of you already suspected, I used to post under a different username. I needed change (and a little distance) and changing my handle felt right, so now I'm seawallfics, because I live by a sea wall, for those of you who're interested 😄


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